Why you should, if you can, come to London for Margaret Thatcher's funeral

When the Duke of Wellington was buried in 1852, a million people – out of a total population of 27.5 million – turned out to pay their respects. Among the reverential crowds lining the streets from Constitution Hill to St Paul's as the twelve-ton carriage passed were many who had disliked his politics.

The hero of Waterloo had gone on to become arguably the most reactionary Tory leader of all time. He had resisted the 1832 extension of the franchise, opposed the granting of equal rights to Catholics and Jews and even voted against the abolition of slavery in India. By any measure, the Iron Duke was (to borrow the BBC's terminology) a more 'divisive' politician than the Iron Lady.

Yet his countrymen were blessed with a sense of perspective. They did not gnaw away at the issues where they had disagreed with him. Instead, they saw the big picture. At a time of national danger, Wellington had stepped forward to save Britain. The Illustrated London News gave a sense of the national mood:

With pomp and circumstances, a fervour of popular respect, a solemnity and a grandeur never before seen in our time, and in all probability, not to be surpassed in the obsequies of any other hero heretofore to be born, the sacred relics of Arthur Duke of Wellington have been deposited in the place long since set apart by the unanimous design of his countrymen.

Are we so diminished as a people that we can no longer rise to such occasions? Will we continue to baffle and sadden overseas observers by cavilling over the death of a leader whom foreigners – even Argentines – recognise as a saviour of her country?

I don't think so. Touring my constituency this week, I was pleasantly surprised by how many people intended, unfussily, to pay their respects in person on Wednesday. Modern communications have given prominence to the nauseating antics of a handful of half-wits. We shouldn't make the mistake of thinking that they are representative of the broad mass of the Left in Britain.

There are plenty of people who opposed Margaret Thatcher at the time, yet who now have the generosity to acknowledge that much of what she did was brave and right. One example may stand for many. My wife, like the Lady, was at Somerville College, Oxford, and remembers the way tutors and students boycotted her visit 20 years ago. Having wanted nothing to do with her when she was prime minister, Somerville is now embracing Margaret Thatcher as a daughter: large screens are being brought in for students to watch the funeral, and a memorial fund is being established. Her reputation, there as elsewhere, has grown with every passing year.

Why watch on screen, though, when you can attend in person? I appreciate that it isn't practical for everyone to come to London on a weekday morning but, if you possibly can, you should try to make the journey. You don't have to be a Thatcherite to acknowledge the magnitude of her achievement. She took a country that was bankrupt, demoralised and dishonoured and left it confident, prosperous and free.

For those who share the Lady's views, there will be a special tribute after the service organised by the Freedom Association, which she supported throughout her life. Between 1.00 pm and 5.00 pm, in the Pavilion End pub, next to St Paul's, there will be speeches by a number of those who value Margaret Thatcher's legacy, including Steve Baker MP, Mark Littlewood of the IEA, Nirj Deva MEP, Matthew Sinclair of the TaxPayers' Alliance and me. Please join us.

People will come from different motives. Some because they want to continue her policies; some because they admire her success as a woman; some because they remember her time in office fondly; some out of patriotism; some because they only now realise what a big presence she was on the edge of their consciousness; some because they feel that, in T.S. Eliot's phrase, 'History is now and England'.

I'll be there because I know of no finer British prime minister. When we thought we were fated to inexorable decline, she taught us better. I want to thank her one last time.